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Then it hits me, that Boonmee vibe—“I see my past lives flicker.” Maybe these girls got stories, too, lives stacked like old film reels. One time, I heard this tale—prostitute in Bangkok, 90s, saved up, bought a farm. True story! Left the streets, grew rice, flipped the script. Made me smile, thinkin’ she outsmarted the hustle. But here? It’s gritty—neon lights, fake moans, guys too drunk to care. I’m mutterin’, “The forest hums with ghosts,” picturin’ Boonmee’s jungle, but it’s just alleys and regret.

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Now, the parks, oh boy! There’s Crescent Park. I’d saunter there when the mood hit me – leaves blowin’ free, bench sittin’ real comfy. A lil’ green brain space, ya know? Call it my secret thinkin' spot. And don’t even get me started on River Bend. Water trickles past like it’s tellin’ ancient secrets. I swear sometimes its whispers echo “The line between truth and tale is always thin, fellas!” Kinda deep, like the movie’s vibe.

The Boneshakers ft. Jenny Langer: Festival de Blues de Donnacona 2024